Caught on Fire
by Eigee
Summary: The last thing I wanted to do when I arrived to D12 was to give explanations. I just learned she acted it all out for the Games and now I must pull it together. Everybody relies on my good-natured version. And I can t let them down. A PEETA MELLARK P.O.V
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Whew, it´s been a long time since I wrote anything here, yes? Sorry about that, college life is well... pretty wild. Anyway this, THIS is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. It´s something I had wanted to try for a while now, and while I know my writing is a bit rusty -over a year without having written any fanfiction, mind you- I hope I get it right. Part of me feared the challenge because I find Suzanne Collins´style especially hard to get around with. It´s just they way she phrases, it´s not malleable like Cressida Cowell or Bryke, the writers of A:TLA. Hopefully, I got it at least to look decent. So about this fic, Caught in Fire, is narrated from yes, you guessed, our very own Peeta Mellark. The reason why my first shot at THG is Peeta is because I find Katniss has a way of depressing me down and because I´m going to be honest here, most of the Peeta P.O.V.s I´ve read aren´t my type. I know I´m not the master of IC fanfiction, but trust me when I say I tried my best here. Although, I think I made Peeta´s mother a bit of a lunatic... Anyway, I´m sure I´m not at all IC, but I´ll let you decide that. I really REALLY REALLY, from the deepest bottom of my heart ask your honest opinion. I want to improve! :D And I don´t think I made a good job, so please some feedback? Okay, I´m finishing my rant here. Just one last thing. Takes place between the end of THG and the beginning of CF. Why? Because in my opinion there was so much potential for Peeta angst in that unwritten plot section, that it´s just too good to let it pass. To end this mini-rant, I want to throw this out for your consideration as you read. I chose to write Peeta the way I did because I frankly believe no one can be that perfect. And in my personal experience with people like him, they are usually the ones that hurt the most and we never get to see that. We get only the nice part of Peeta, while I´m sure he´s left to his own devices when he has to fight his demons. I think that´s why I love this character so much. In my mind he´s very strong, stronger than Katniss, yet so very flawed like everybody else in the book. I played with that idea as I wrote this. I hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own, although I´d like very much to, The Hunger Games trilogy or any of its characters. They all belong to Suzanne Collins. **

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><p>"Caught in Fire"<p>

The last thing I wanted to do is come back home and have to give explanations. Having Katniss telling me she didn't really know how she feels about me while I thought my life from this point onward was going to be peaceful and by her side, left me in simple words, torn apart. And now that I'm back home, I'll have no other option than to put on the masks I know so well and be Panem's charming baker boy from District 12 once more. They will be expecting some kisses. Heartbreaking reunions with our families too, no doubt. I wonder if they'll bring in Gale Hawthorne to receive Katniss as part of her family. I remember what she told me back in the cave, that I didn't have any competition. What a joke. Suddenly, I find myself calculating how much time it'll take her before I become a complete stranger.

The train stops and I feel my heart race, but I choose to ignore it. Pull it together, Mellark, I think. That phrase was my wrestling instructor's choice words for me. But it's also a phrase that helped me survive in the Games when my last resort of defense became, yes, icing. He used to yell that at me when I started slacking off at training. And during the Games, while someone chased me, when I was very scared or hungry, I pretended he was right behind me yelling "Pull it together, Mellark! It's already bad enough you like to bake cakes, man up!" But right now, my imagination is far from able to conceive him yelling at me to man up, that it's already bad I'm in love with a girl that hunts on a daily basis while I just bake cookies.

Before the doors slide open I extend my hand to Katniss, wipe my voice from any feeling and say "One more time? For the audience?"

She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. I unsuccessfully try to convince myself she's just nervous, not longing for me.

The doors swoosh open and a thunder of flashes and questions pours on us. Thankfully, the Capitol assistants make a sort of shield in front of us so we can walk toward the podium that has been set for our welcome-back interviews. But as the reporters start asking us how we feel about coming back, if we're eager to start our new life together, and if we could please kiss in front of the camera, I start wishing this could all end fast. Not only because the ritual feels downright literal when I say it's pouring lemon on my wounds, but because I find that every answer, joke, touch and staged kiss burns through me with the acidic truth: none of it is real.

As if I wasn't uncomfortable enough yet, the reporters arrive to the topic that I've made a point of to evade throughout the whole Hunger Games; my family.

"Peeta, how are you feeling about seeing your family again?" A reporter asks me. Terrible, I feel like answering, considering the only member of my family who thought I could win told me to stick with Katniss so I could last longer.

As I'm about to answer, the make-shift projectors show an image of my family, standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd. I try and not to look at the panel for too long, so I just answer "I feel enormously blessed. I really missed my family and I'm glad I have the opportunity to see them again."

"What is the first thing you two are going to do now you're back home?" Some other reporter asks.

"You mean besides sleep?" I ask with a smirk on my face that causes everyone to chuckle, even Katniss, who laughs right on cue. "No, really, we just want to rest. Settle down, go back to normal. Everything else can wait." I answer, snaking my arm around Katniss' waist, in the hope that she gets my message. That I'm not going to rush her, she can take as long as she wants. I'm willing to wait.

"Katniss, who are you more eager to see?"

"My sister Prim," Katniss immediately answers with a smile. "I missed her a lot."

"And you Peeta?"

The cameras train on me but I take a while to answer. The truth is I didn't exactly miss my life as a baker. All I was looking forward to after winning the Games was finally spending time with Katniss, teaching her how to sketch, maybe I could convince her of taking me to the woods, coax a song out of her and see if the birds really fell silent, helping each other to forget the awful memories of all of those could've-been friends in the arena. Just entering her life; staying with her always.

"My father," I say, deciding to answer this as close as the truth as possible knowing this would save me later guilt. "He's my role model. I really missed him." That´s not entirely false, so it´s good enough for me.

Cameras keep flashing at us for the next ten minutes or so, but I feel every second passing is an eternity. I feel weary, keeping masks up is no easy task. Although I wasn't pretending on my love for Katniss, probably everything else I did in the Games was just as ephemeral as Katniss' love for me. Finally, the moment that I've been dreading all day arrives; meeting up with my family again. Just the thought of seeing my mother, who coldheartedly bid me farewell before I was taken away for the Hunger Games, makes my hands start sweating. I think Katniss notices because she glances in my direction with a puzzled look. I only smile shyly because I´m really not in the mood to amuse her with an explanation.

Little by little the camera crews start emptying the train station, clearing my path towards my family. The four of them stand still as ice, unable to believe their eyes as I approach them. The first to come down crumbling is my brother Rye, who could've volunteered for me in the reaping just like Katniss did for Prim. He is also my best friend. Before he starts what I think must have been a much rehearsed apology I hugged him with abruptness.

"I'm sorry, Peeta." It's all he says.

"It's okay. I'm back." I answer him.

Next, my eldest brother, Hesper, joins the both of us followed by my father and lastly but incredibly, my mother. I feel my father's tears moistening my cheek and Hesper's tight grip around me. The scene must be real touching, I bet, because cameras start flashing again. We break apart since I´m about to shoo them off, but to my surprise, someone already is backing me up; drunken Haymitch and Katniss telling the cameras we only want to be left alone. Haymitch just has vomited upon a Capitol cameraman's shoes, when I catch a glimpse of Katniss' eyes locking with mine. Just like that time with the bread. It only lasts seconds though, but that was all I need to gain some peace of mind. I nod her way in thankfulness and she twisted her lips into a would-be smile before hopping onto a Capitol van with her family.

"It's time to go." I say with an edge of finiteness, hoping my family didn't notice the altercation with Katniss. But just as I was born with that way with words, my family is ridiculously talented to pick up on subtle things, an art I've learned over time too.

"What was that about?" Rye asks a little confused. "Are you two okay?"

It's only when I see Gale Hawthorne hopping onto Katniss' van that all hopes of me getting her back vanish, leaving a very painful feeling in my stomach. But I answer "We're just tired. Come on, I want to go home." But little did I know, I'd never set foot in my old merchant house again.

To my bad fortune, I arrive in sync with Katniss' van to Victor's Village, which only makes the thing altogether more awkward. Picture this: You've been nationally broadcasted making out with the girl of your dreams for a little more than three weeks. Then you learn she didn't actually love you, although everyone else thinks she does. And now you're expected to bear that on top of the fact you'll be her mother's neighbor. Plus there's also Katniss' little "cousin", Gale.

They´re unloading a truck with the Everdeen's belongings, which only included some boxes, when I catch a disapproving look from Mrs. Everdeen. I feel my cheeks burn with shame and the need to dig up a hole and camouflage myself into a sidewalk, but the only thing I manage to do is wave friendlily at her. She doesn't even flinch. I guess I know where Katniss got that steely stare she gives me when she's mad at me. Gale follows her into the house, and his glance is a whole different thing. He´s not watching me; he´s willing daggers into my face. I hold my eyes up to him in a menacing way as well. All I can think "If looks could kill…" The only one who greets me back was Katniss' lovely little sister, Prim. She carries her cat, I think Katniss mentioned its name was Buttercup, and the goat along with her. She smiles at me and waves, "Hi, Peeta!"

I wave her back. "Hey, Prim."

"You want me to call Katniss out?"

My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. "No, no. That's fine, Prim. Let her rest."

She nods and enters the house following her mother´s example.

My new house in Victor's Village gives me no sense of home, although it already smells of it: freshly baked bread and I think I'm lucky enough to detect beef stew. Back in the old days, the only time I'd get stew was when my dad bought squirrels from Katniss. I wonder what's she going to do with all this free time, I mean, surely she won't have to worry about feeding her family like she did before. At least there's a bright side to all of this, I think. I come into the living room where I find my two siblings gushing over how "cool" the TV is. Great, I think, now I'll really get to enjoy the Hunger Games for sure. I wonder who'll be mentor next year; Haymitch or me. I pray it's not me. Keeping Katniss alive is one thing, I don't think I'd have what it takes to coach a boy into his own death; I can't be heartless like Haymitch. I wouldn't bear to sit and watch helplessly as yet another tribute from District 12 dies before my eyes. I might as well become the next drunken mentor of D12. I suddenly catch my thoughts drifting off to Katniss again when I realize she won't have another choice. She will be the girl mentor like it or not. And although we won this year, frankly most of it was due to Katniss in one way or the other. She's got spark, unfortunately I can't say that of most girls in District 12. Like I said, she's the only one that has made a lasting impression on me, and I'm sure she has done the same with everyone in the Hob and at school. She's hard to forget. But I couldn't picture Madge Undersee or Delly Cartwright –especially Delly Cartwright, turning into the next "girl on fire".

"Peeta!" Rye exclaims, shattering my train of thought into oblivion. "Check this out!"

I sit next to Rye and Hesper, who are already fumbling with a large box that has the Capitol emblem on top of it. There's a little note attached to it and I recognize the handwriting.

Peeta,

I knew you'd make it all along. I'm very proud of you. This is for that talk we had before, make it count.  
>See you in November.<p>

Your friend and stylist,

Portia

I open the lid of the box and find a full set of painting tools: paints, canvas, mixing tablets… everything. I smile to myself and move my head from side to side in disbelief. Portia, I think. I don't know how well Katniss got along with Cinna, but for me Portia was some kind of aunt who likes spoiling me. I remember that during my first meeting with her, when she had me stroll around a room naked, she asked me what was my favorite hobby and I remember telling her I didn't have one but I always had wanted to be a painter.

"What's this?" My father asks with obvious amusement at the sight of my shocked expression.

"Peeta's stylist sent him paints… I don't know why." Rye fills my dad in.

"Because…" I say, "I told her I've always wanted to be a painter."

"She should've sent you baking materials." My mom says as she walks in to inspect the box herself. "These are no use."

I breathe deep and try to count to ten… One, come on Peeta, you've just arrived from the Games. Give her a break… Two, but she didn't even care I could've died… Three, but she loves you, she's your mom after all… Four, yeah right… Five… don't burst… Six, she deserves it… Seven, Katniss also deserves it but you don't burst with her, do you? …Seven, yes but Katniss is Katniss… Eight, plus my mom only cares about the bakery. I just arrived from the _Hunger Games_, for crying out loud… Nine; just let it go…Ten, it's just a harmless comment…

"What good is it for you to paint, anyway?" She adds. I feel like someone's pulling my stomach as if it was a string. I violently snatch the box from her sight and say, "It's nothing you would understand."

She stares blankly at me and then I detect anger beginning to boil in her eyes. That's my cue to flee.

"Peeta…" my dad calls, but I just go straight upstairs.

"She didn't mean it to harm you." My dad says when he opens the door to the bedroom I closed myself in.

"She never does, does she?" I say in a very sarcastic way but my dad only stares sternly at me. "I'm sorry. It's just that… that I wish for once she could be a little more tactful."

My dad nods in agreement and keeps silent. I look around the room and I find it quite luxurious. A king size bed with navy blue covers, mahogany furniture, a walk-in closet and a door that I'm pretty sure leads to a bathroom. But then I notice the most appealing feature yet. There's a window from where you can see the Everdeen's.

"I call dibs on this one." I say all of nowhere.

"What?"

"The room. I want this room. It's got good lighting." I say.

"You can have any room you want." My dad says. "After all, this is your house, Peeta."

I'm about to protest but my dad closes the door behind himself, leaving me with the loneliness that had been menacing to spring ever since I realized Katniss wasn't really in love with me. The room is cold despite its luxuriousness and it only helps me become aware of the truth. The Games are over and so is my relationship with Katniss. There's Victory Tour in a couple months and then that's it. Goodbye to the baker's son. It takes me a couple days to realize what my dad meant about this being my house. It is. And according to my dad, it´s not theirs. By the time my first week ends, my dad announces they have to go back to tending the bakery, that they can´t stay here because they must guard it. Someone might steal it in the night; that was my mother´s excuse. Although I felt really down and well, abandoned, I couldn´t really tell them how bad I felt. All I said was "Okay, I´ll drop in to check on you." I say. My dad smiles and tells me, "I´ll be waiting." He gingerly closes the door and just like that, I´m left to myself. Suddenly I understand the reason of Haymitch´s dependence to alcohol. The way the halls are quiet, the colors are harmonic, the way everything is so perfectly arranged makes it great for your mind to play tricks on you. It makes it easier for the ghosts, the loneliness to hunt you down at night.

**a/n: Possibly to be continued. I don´t know... depends on how much I´m up to it. Review, please! Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.**

**EDIT: Like some of you guys suggested, I split this into two chapters. You were right, it WAS way too long! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I split the first chapter into two you guys, you were right. It was pretty darn long for it to be only one chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: All credits go to Suzanne Collins.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 <strong>

The first nights were the worse. I fretted on my sleep; my leg hurt because I usually have a bad memory and always forgot to take my painkillers before I went to bed. I shouted and screamed and felt the pain of Cato´s maiming me all over again, like it just happened, like if it was real. I saw the wolf-mutts. I saw Rue dying. Katniss being almost killed by Clove and me shouting at the top of my lungs for her to run. I saw when they cut my leg, even though I was unconscious when they did that. I saw me running away from the Careers, entering the ruins of a bakery and then seeing how the ovens explode and consume me in flames. I saw the moment Katniss pointed that last arrow at me and let my mind create the scenario of what would´ve have happened if she had decided to kill me. Waking up never helped. When I did I only found myself screaming, alone, in an empty dark room, frequently scared by the sounds the trees make when they´re moved by a strong wind. But one night, the first night it rained, the truth dawned on me. No matter how scared, hurt, or lonely I felt, nothing I could do would change it. I heard a mighty thunder which made me fall to the ground and hurt my calf-less leg. Only then, consumed in pain and darkness, I allowed myself to cry all the fear and desperation I had so badly wanted to express during the Games.

Time passed and nights became days while days became weeks. And as this happened it only became harder to fool my family into making them believe my star-crossed lovers trick. Actually, it was hard to fool them about just anything: that I was okay despite the Games, that I felt alright, that I was having a blast as a new victor. So at one point I decided to stop visiting them, because with each visit they got closer to the truth. That I was not okay. That Katniss and I were as close as oil is to water. That my mask is crumbling. But the bubble exploded one afternoon, when they decided to drop by at dinner.

"So, what have you been up to, Peeta?" Rye asks but he has to repeat the question a couple times for me to actually listen. "Peeta?"

"Huh?"

Rye and Hesper look concerned at each other.

"Are you okay, Sunshine?" Rye asks me, using that darn nickname I used to hate so much but right now brings so many funny memories. He used to call me Little Miss Sunshine to bug me at wrestling, partly because of the blond factor and partly because according to him I was too feminine for his taste. And that´s when I would usually lift him off the floor and smack him to the ground back-first, like a flour bag. Then we would both laugh and I would help him up. Before I know it, I´m smiling, even suppressing a laugh. It´s been so long since I don´t find something funny that I go ahead and let the feeling invade me.

"What the—"

"Sorry Rye, it´s just…" I struggled between chuckles, "It´s just it´s been so long since you called me that and your face… you should´ve seen how stupid you looked." I say with a devilish snicker.

"Oh, yeah?" asks Rye, mockingly. "Well wipe that grin off your face, Sweetie Pie, or I´ll wipe it for ya!" Rye locks me with his arm and with his fist rubs the top of my head as if he were trying to dig a hole on my cranium.

"Girls, girls" Hesper intervenes, "Stop it, you´ll mess each other´s hairdo. You´re both pretty okay? You can both have Hawthorne."

Rye and me immediately stop our taunting each other and throw daggers at our eldest brother. "You sure he wasn´t adopted, dad?" Rye asks.

"Jeez, way to break the mood, Hesper!" I say, following Rye´s example.

"Tell me about it," Rye starts. "I swear if I hear another girl at school squealing about how hot and how handsome Hawthorne is, I´ll go to his house and punch him. He´s not even in school anymore! Can you believe it? The nerve! And then, there´s you. I´m going to be honest with you, Sunshine, I was hoping being the brother of a freaking Victor would increase my chance with the ladies."

I cough on my soup and laugh. "You what?" This is far too good to let it go. I know Katniss—and the rest of Panem, for that matter—thinks I´m a complete goodie goodie, and she´s right. But Rye, being my brother, I can make an exception for him. It´s the only person I´ll ever tease.

"And just how well did that one go, champ?" I ask, too upbeat for him not to notice my obvious amusement. Answering me, Rye lifts up his thumb and then points it down. I can´t help but laugh.

"Oh don´t be so smug, Peeta Pie, I´d keep the windows shut and Katniss near, armed with bow and arrow. You have as much obsessed little teenager girls following your trail as Hawthorne."

I almost swallow my spoon. "Now, you´re just messing with me."

"Am not. Seriously, Peeta! How do you do that? They all fell in love with you in the Games!" He starts ranting. "They eat that stuff up, girls."

"They´re the Games, Rye." I say quietly, uncomfortable with the turn our conversation has given.

"Mind you, _I_ almost fell in love with you, too. How can you be so cheesy? I never thought Katniss would fall for that type."

"That´s it, Rye." I say with a small voice again.

"You should coach me sometime…" He keeps on going. And it only takes that phrase to set me off. To trigger my memories and to make me remember why talking like this with Rye is all wrong. _Coach me sometime._

"Drop it, Rye!" I exclaim. And although I know Rye was only teasing me in a goodhearted way, it sets me off. He looks at me a bit shocked and mutters he´s sorry. I nod and immediately feel sorry myself. My best friend, my brother, isn´t guilty in any way for my lack of outlet for the feelings I jammed up during the Games. In either way, my snapping at him settles an uncomfortable silence in the dining table that not even Caesar Flickerman could break.

"Well, this is a first." Hesper says poking at his plate after a while.

"It's chicken, I bought it from the butcher" my mother speaks for the first time. "It's fine, expensive meat so I expect you to finish every last bit."

Fine meat or not, this is not half as good as the meat we bought from Katniss, not even Capitol meat, in my opinion. But the only way I´d tell that to my mother is if I wanted my good leg chopped off. Still, it tasted funny, like poisoned or rotten. I shake my head at the butcher, who more than once has sold rotten meat to the merchants. I know this firsthand because one of my friends, Delly Cartwright, got food poisoning by eating rotten meat and had to be taken to Mrs. Everdeen in order for her not to dehydrate to death. She missed school for a week.

"What is it?" My mother asks. Oops, I think she saw me shaking my head.

"Are you sure it's chicken?" I asked. "Tastes funny. Like rotten or something." I say not trying to be rude, just giving her a heads up.

"It's not rotten!" she exclaims. "It's better than any of the meat we've had before."

"Really?" I say and take another bite. "I think the butcher fooled you. It doesn't taste like-"

"Well, why don't you ask _her_ to bring you game so you stop complaining and for a change save me money!"

I look down to my plate and quietly force the "chicken" down my throat, focusing on finishing fast.

"How's she, by the way?" My dad asks.

"Huh?"

"Katniss. You haven't spoken of her lately."

"Oh, she's fine…She's uh… she's been helping the Hawthornes out."

Rye and Hesper looked at me raising one quizzical eyebrow simultaneously.

"Hawthorne?" Rye asks. "Speak of the devil. He ended up in the mines, right?"

"I honestly don't know." I say. And I don't care.

"Where else?" Hesper adds.

I nod casually. It rubs me the wrong way, how Gale Hawthorne seems to all of a sudden claim even my family conversations. Making fun of him with my brother is one thing, but it's already good enough that I have to compete for Katniss with him. Assuming she will ever speak to me again, that is. I bet she's been seeing him.

"Doesn't it bother you though?" My brother asks again.

"They're friends." I say. "She helps his mother with the food and all that."

My mother grunts unimpressed. "Leave it to those Seam brats to suck on someone else's success."

"Katniss happens to be one of those "Seam brats" mom, and I'd really appreciate if you stopped referring to them like that. It's not their fault."

"And how does she provide for them?" My mom snaps. "Oh, don't tell me. Hunting, like always. That girl will get us in trouble if she's caught hunting in the woods, Peeta."

"Look mom," I say angrier than I'd like. "You're free to tell _me_ what and what not you think I can do. But don't get near Katniss. Understood? And for the record, she´ll never get caught. She´s too good at it."

"Peeta Mellark!" She begins, but I just roll my eyes. "Don't you talk to me in that way! I am your mother!"

I just pick up my plate and dump it in the sink.

"Where do you think you're going? Come back here! If you set one more foot I swear I'll—

"You'll what mom? Send me to bed without dinner? Scare me? No really, I want you to try." I say and leave her speechless for enough time so I can storm out the back door.

"You have no right to talk to me that way!" She screams from the dining room but I make a point of banging the door as loud as I can. I can hear Rye making a sarcastic comment about the nature of Capitol-made doors but I´m too mad to care. I can still hear my dad –who rarely ever fights or speaks to my mom—telling her that it wasn´t right to set me off like that. The fact that they start making an argument out of it makes me altogether even more upset so I just walk to the furthest end of the backyard, near Katniss´ house and sit among two large bushes. I hope no one finds me, but I don´t think my size will ease the job of my pair of concealments. I start picking on the fruits of the bush, wondering what they are, and grunting when I hear my parent´s fight isn´t over. I can hear them all the way from here. Ugh, why on Earth can´t my mom and I get along for one miserable dinner? I mean, she´s strict and all, but she´s always been harsher with me. Probably because I´m the youngest. Probably because I´m the one who looks more like my dad. Probably because I´m in love with the daughter of the woman whom my dad always fancied. In either way, our relationship is not exactly fixable. And to think I was having such a good time with my brothers. I hear another of her roars and notice how close I am to the Everdeens and how clear I can hear the fight. Suddenly I start hoping they aren´t listening. That´s the last I want, Katniss knowing there´s not much to admire about me other than I´m the baker´s son, who happens to be part of a very broken family. Frankly this is where Katniss always gets it wrong. She thinks the Seam kids´ life is as dull as it can get: go to school, get working on the mines, marry, have kids, hope they don´t get reaped, grow old—if you´re lucky enough to, die. But she doesn´t know that that unfolding of event applies to everyone, not only Seam kids. That before I was in the Games, and before I met her, that too was my destiny. I hear some smashing in the house and I´m tempted to settle the mess down, but then a window in Katniss´ house that sees towards my garden opens. My immediate instinct is to flinch and get down to the dirt as fast as I can. I guess I haven´t left the Games yet. It´s only when I see the pair of golden braids hanging loose above the window frame that I know I´m on safe grounds. I sit again but Prim still doesn´t see me.

"What´s going on out there?" I hear Mrs. Everdeen asking Prim.

"I think they´re fighting, mom." Prim says. I detect the slightest tint of worry in her voice. "Katniss, maybe you should go and check on Peeta. Maybe he´s being robbed."

I silently laugh at the little girl´s naivety.

"I´m sure he´s fine, Prim." Hearing her voice makes my heart drop to my stomach. I fist the dirt only to have something to hold on to.

"But will you go and check? Maybe he´s hurt or something. Remember his bad leg, Katniss!" She´s almost whining now and even though I can´t see her, I can imagine Katniss´ expression and fight hard not to chuckle. Too bad her single weakness will always be Prim.

"Okay, I´ll go check on him later."

"Go now, please."

"No, Prim. Now we need to finish our diner. I´ll let you come along with me if you finish eating first."

Prim´s about to leave when a shift of my feet make some roots crackle. Prim gasps. Curse that freaking Everdeen ear. It´s in their genes, I swear. Not even Prim misses it! I know how Katniss says I´m very loud when I walk, but come on, _I _barely heard this one! In either way, now I have Prim eye-searching whatever did the sound in the bushes. I´m tempted to do a cat sound so she thinks it´s Buttercup but then again, what if he´s with her and she wants to retrieve the poor creature stuck in the bush. Well, she´d have a tough time healing this cat. It´s already missing a limb for all that I know.

"Peeta?" She whispers. I flinch. I turn to her and put my index finger to my lips, signaling her to quiet down. She nods her head but in her eyes I can see the question that surely brews in her mouth, _What are you doing down there?_ I signal her with my hands that it´s all okay and she nods again. I shoo her to her dining room, point to the house and make eating gestures. She nods again.

"Prim? What´s taking so long?" I hear Katniss asking. Now, my hearing might not be made to hear every freaking twig snap, but I can hear Katniss´ footsteps anywhere. I see her peeking out the window but Prim immediately goes to my aid.

"Nothing! It´s nothing! I thought I saw something on Peeta´s garden." Prim speaks agitatedly.

"What did you see?" Katniss asks with a sudden urgency that makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe she does care about me after all. But just as I´m silently thanking Prim´s masterful cupid tricks, she says "Uh… a snake?"

"A snake?" Katniss shrieks and I slap my forehead. Thanks Prim. Note to self about Everdeens: Keen ear, yes. Acting abilities… they could use some improvement.

"But we should finish eating first, Katniss. The soup is getting cold." Through the holes in the bush I can see Prim pushing Katniss away from the window but she struggles with her to take a closer look to my garden. I hope she doesn´t see me.

"Katniss!" Prim shrieks. "You´re squashing me!" True. Katniss is leaning so far out the window, she´s got Prim trapped between herself and the wall.

"Sorry! Sorry, Prim!"

"I´m fine. Let´s just go and eat so we can go and check on Peeta."

"Yes, well maybe you´re right. I should go and check on him now."

"No! Not now! I want to go with you but I´m still hungry!" The girl pleads with Katniss.

"Alright, let´s go finish dinner."

If I could rely better on my eyesight, I could´ve swear Prim winked at me.

The best I can do not to blow my alibi of the snake is to crawl my way to my house. Where I forgot for a minute that I had left a mess in; and sure enough, I find my mom still mad and my dad and brothers done with their dinner.

"Peeta!" My dad says suddenly. "I thought you had run off." I´m tempted to fill him in on the fact that there´s nowhere to run to in my backyard, but I let him be.

"I´m fine. I just wanted to wait until you guys were done with your talking."

My dad presses his lips together in regret. "We´re just trying to make sure you´re okay, Peeta."

"I know, and I´m glad for that. But I´m fine."

"How´s the leg?"

"Getting better each day." I lie with expertise.

"Good, and have you´ve been taking your painkillers?"

"Yes, dad."

"Okay." He says with relief. "Uh, it´s getting late so we should probably get going. We don´t want to bump into the Peacekeepers, you know how they´ve been lately."

"Okay." I say. "It was nice having you over."

My dad nods and I escort them to the door. The chilly wind enters the house as I open the front door and we all flinch. Autumn´s here, no doubt.

"Take care, son." My dad says.

"You too. And… be careful with those Peacekeepers."

They all nod. They´re just leaving when I see the pair of my neighbors approaching my house. I see that subtle shift in Katniss´ expression that lets me know she´s not very confortable with my family. I think it´s Rye. Rye on the other hand must have seen how my face changed when I saw Katniss because he announces, "Hey Sunshine, I´ll be dropping by during the week, okay?"

I see Katniss´ brows furrow puzzled at my nickname, Rye´s grin, and then I smack my forehead again. I hear Prim laugh at this last gesture. But even though I sense the mood is relaxing, it all becomes ice once my family is out of hearing range and Katniss and Prim reach my front door.

"Hi, Peeta." Prim waves at me.

"Hey, Prim!" I answer with equal friendliness. I need whatever I got to earn myself points with Katniss. I´m still not entirely ready to hand her over in a silver platter to Hawthorne.

"Hey," Katniss says and shrugs when a gust of wind shamelessly messes her braid. I notice she´s not very covered from the cold. Only a thin long sleeved green shirt and her normal pair of pants and boots.

"Want to come in? It´s cold outside." I say flinching at the cold too.

"That´s fine, Prim only wanted to check on you."

"No. You did!" Prim says and although I remain calm I´m dying to laugh at Katniss´ expression. She´s cute when she gets mad at Prim. "I told her I saw a snake in your house and she wanted to come and check on you right then but I told her we should wait until we finished dinner."

"Sure, little miss." Katniss says. In that moment more wind gushes in and Katniss and Prim flinch again. I´m about to ask them again if they want to come inside, but Prim makes herself at home and comes right in.

"Prim!" Katniss shrieks.

"What, it´s cold outside, crazy! You´ll get a cold!"

Katniss´nosetrills flare a little and I, playing my good boy role so well, make myself aside and say, "She´s right, you know."

Once she´s inside I close the door.

"Anyway I only wanted to check about that snake Prim saw. Don´t want it entering either houses."

I nod.

"So, uh… I´ll just go and… check."

I nod again and Katniss goes out to the backyard, hunting a snake she will never find.

"Thanks for that." I mutter to Prim as we both watch Katniss hunt the invisible creature, pushing bushes aside, lifting rocks, attacking suspicious-looking things…

"For what?" Prim asks obliviously. I turn to look at her with a puzzled stare.

"You know for what."

"I have no idea what you´re talking about." She simply states, hopping on of my couches. She´s smart, this one. Not that Katniss isn´t but I sense Prim is easier to communicate to.

"Oh but I think you do." I say and sit by her side. "A snake, Prim?"

"Do not." Prim continued, stubbornly. Well, aren´t you your sister´s sister. "Honestly, Peeta. If I knew better I´d think you were trying to sabotage yourself. Katniss came here by her own account. Snake or no snake."

"You told her it was a snake so she would come up here?"

Prim yawns. "It´s late for me. I still have homework to do, tell Katniss I´ll be in the house, okay?"

She hops down the couch and walks to the front door.

"What?" I´m suddenly whispering, even though I know Katniss can´t hear. "No, Prim! Prim!"

I follow after the girl. "Prim, don´t leave me here with _Katniss_!"

She turns around with a kind laughter dangling on her smile. "But Peeta, you spent a month alone with her. And you weren´t exactly shy…"

I feel my cheeks burning. Now this is what I needed. Crumbling to bits Katniss´little sister innocence. "I know but…" I sigh, "It´s difficult, Prim. When you´re older, you learn that not everything is what it seems and—

"Peeta," she looks straight into my eyes with a serenity that can only come from fire itself. Young Primrose, also a girl on fire. "If anyone knows Katniss best, I think that´s me. And, don´t tell her I said this, but my sister´s far more fragile than she looks like. I know… what happened. Before you arriving here. Don´t give up on her just yet. Katniss needs someone like you. It´s just that she can´t see it yet. She has a hard time sorting feelings out. Anyway, I should be going now. I wasn´t lying when I said I have homework to do."

"Thanks, Prim. What´s your homework about, anyway?"

"Coal types." She scrunches her nose. I mirror her expression. "Yeah, I know. Not fun."

"What grade are you in now?"

"Seventh."

"Already? Wow. I remember when you were this tall" I level my hand up to my hip "And used to drag Katniss to the bakery so you could see my cakes."

Prim laughs. "Yes, it feels like it was very long ago. You know, unlike Katniss, I always knew it was you who iced them."

I laugh unable to help my blushing. "I might bake one just for you any day. When´s your birthday?"

"I turn thirteen next Friday." She says, blushing herself.

"Well, I know what your gift will be."

"Thanks, Peeta!" She says, genuinely happy, and hugs me goodbye. "I really have to go now, my mom will kill me if I don´t. And don´t let Katniss get too wrapped up in looking for our little imaginary friend."

I laugh. "Sure, Prim. Have fun doing your homework." I tease as she walks up to her house. She moves her head from side to side. When I close the door, reality hits me. As good-natured and empathetic as Prim is, my problem is still plucking my garden around. I gulp hard and force my heart into beating at a steadier pace, one that doesn´t give me a heart attack.

"Uh, Katniss?" Her braid is loose now, and little hairs fall over her face making her look a little beastly; especially because her goal of killing the thing has not been accomplished.

"What?"

"Katniss, it´s okay. I´ll just close the door and look for it myself tomorrow."

She turns to me with fiery eyes but then the intensity fades away. She stands up, as she was kneeling, and dusts the dirt off her pants. She looks over my shoulder and finds that there´s no blond girl sitting on my living room.

"Where´s Prim?" She asks.

"She told me to tell you she had to go because she had a lot of homework to do." I say, and I don´t know why but the way Katniss looks at me makes me feel scared, nervous. "She said it was about coal types."

Katniss studies my face and then nods.

"Well, I should be going then." She walks inside and I don´t follow her. I just wait for the sound of the door to tell me she´s left me. But no sound comes. I look inside and Katniss is still there, looking into a room that I carelessly left open. I run.

"No, no, no…. what are you? No… that room, no." I stutter. Which is rare in me. Katniss stares at me weirdly.

"What´s in it?"

"Stuff. Paints. It´s my studio." More like my mess room, the reason why I don´t want her anywhere near it is because sometimes I get so scared about my nightmares that a canvas is not enough space for my splashing paints around. Sometimes I paint the walls too or rip my own paintings apart. Sometimes the only thing I can do to forget my nightmares is to destroy them.

We both look at each other and for a moment, I think she will try to kiss me or something, because she stares at me in the same way she did when we kissed in the arena. I feel my heart starting to race only to have it stop abruptly when I hear my conscience telling me _It´s not real, you stupid. She was pretending._ I feel an urge to stop staring at those grey eyes that have always brought me to my knees ever since the first time I saw them. I notice the dirty plates of my family´s dinner still lying around in the table so I get to the task of clearing them.

Agonizing. That´s the only way to describe the silence between the two of us. I try to walk slowly as to no make a sound, but the task becomes impossible. Hiding in the bushes and being exposed out in the cold finally took its toll on my much abused prosthetic leg. I wince with every step, but I´m determined to hold up until Katniss leaves. I pile up as many plates I can in my hands so I make less trips, but the pain of my leg along the fact that I haven´t exactly been taking care of it lately makes it really hard to keep walking. Finally I give in.

"Ah!" I whine. I fall and hear the plates crashing.

"Peeta!" She screams and comes running to my help. "Peeta, your hands!"

I look down to them and sure enough, they´re bleeding.

"Huh, funny how I didn´t need you to push me this time." I say. "I´m okay. It´s just my leg." Katniss makes me sit.

"Your leg? Let me see." She starts reaching for my shoe but I scoot my feet away with much effort.

"I´m fine, Katniss. It´s just pain. I need my pills." I try to stand up only to be proven a cripple in front of Katniss.

"Where are they?"

"I can—

"Peeta, where are they?"

I sigh and look angrily at her. "My room. Up the stairs, first on the left. Right side table, first drawer."

She springs to it while I bang my head against the kitchen island. There´s a reason I wanted to get the pills myself. I have a sketchbook in that drawer. A sketchbook she´s not supposed to see. Let´s hope Katniss curiosity doesn´t get the best of her. She comes back in a heartbeat and she´s wearing an expression that promises an argument. Oh boy, she saw it. Well, in my defense, she wasn´t supposed to be snooping around.

"How in the world aren´t you going to be hurting?" She scolds at me. "These are not even opened yet, Peeta!"

She grabs a glass and pours it with water, but all the time she´s muttering things under her breath. I don´t mention the sketchbook. I´ll have to give her the benefit of doubt.

"I´m sorry, I have a bad memory. I never get a glass of water with me to my room and by the time I remember I have to take it, I already have taken the prosthetic out. So I rather just endure through the night."

"Endure through the night…" She mutters. "Do you even listen to yourself? There´s a reason you have to takes these! You need to get better!"

"Sure, Katniss." I say patronizingly.

"Don´t sure Katniss me!" She shrieks. "Honestly, Peeta! You´d think I´m dealing with a little boy!" She hands me the pills and the glass of water and I take them will the dignity I have left. And although I feel intensely humiliated because I´m certainly not a little boy, I have to admit I´d rather have Katniss mad at me than not at all.

"Do you have something I could use to heal your hands?"

I move my head from side to side. She scowls. After she clears the rest of the table, takes away the broken plates and mops the floor clean of my blood she helps me up to the sink, washes my hands even though I insist I can do that by myself. She almost hits me when I tell her that I´m missing a leg not a hand. She helps me to the living room, sits me down and tells me not to move or else. If she hadn´t added the "or else" I´d probably had tried to climb the stairs up to my room, but this is Katniss we´re talking about. Three minutes later, she comes back, flushed by the cold air, holding a bunch of medical supplies with her and her mother trailing back.

"Oh, Peeta!" Mrs. Everdeen cries. "Let me see those hands." I extend them to her and she gets down to work. I´m hypnotized by the swiftness with which she works, only experienced hands could move this fast. When I see her pulling out a small cloth and dampens it into a clear liquid, I know it´s time to turn away. I flinch and wince and tighten my jaw, because it´s all I can do to prevent myself from screaming. Katniss walks up to me and sits by my side, grabbing my arm. I know how she hates watching people being healed, so you can only imagine how flattered I feel. I stare into her eyes. I know I must be looking pitiful because she smiles to me. Katniss never smiles. I make of it the most and resolve to stare fondly into that beautiful curve.

"There, all done." Mrs. Everdeen says. I look at my hands which are already bandaged neatly in white, clean cotton. I turn them to test the damage, it´s not that bad. I make my hand adopt the position it´d need to hold a pencil and a brush and that´s when I realize just in how deep a trouble I am. I wince.

"Oh no, don´t do that. The stitches have to heal up." I look quietly while Mrs. Everdeen puts everything she used away and gets ready to leave. "If you need anything Peeta, you just have to tell us, okay?"

I smile, "Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen. It´s very kind of you." She goes to her house after that, leaving Katniss alone with me.

"You´re on your own?" She asks but we don´t look each other.

"Why, you noticed?"

"I heard you today. Actually everyone did."

"Everyone as in Prim and your mom?"

"Yes."

I keep silent a long time. "Sorry about that. My mom has anger management problems."

"I´ll start a fire. You haven´t used your chimney."

I´m too in pain to tell her I´ll do it. So I let her, because even if I had told her, she would have pinned me down to the couch with her arrows. Once the fire gets going I feel better. The warmth is so inviting I have to force myself awake. I know where I will be sleeping tonight, though.

"Sorry about the troublesome neighbors." I say. "I´ll try to keep it quieter next time."

"It´s okay."

I don´t say anything.

"Katniss?" I say her name tentatively. My mouth goes dry because I know where I want to go from here.

"Why did you come here?"

"You know why, it´s the snake."

"Oh, don´t give me that!"

"Prim wanted me to check on you, okay?"

I keep silent. Prim was wrong. She cares for me because Prim wants her to care. Not because she actually does.

"Oh." I whisper to the fireplace and then look to my hands, then I remember the promise I made to the girl, object of our talk. "Ugh, stupid!" I say, smacking my head, then regretting it because it hurts.

"Have you gone nuts?"

"No, it´s just that… I promised Prim I would make her a cake for her birthday. You know, it´s next—

"Friday. I know. You don´t have to do that."

"I do. I promised."

"If it´s just for me then—

"Who says it´s for you? It´s for Prim. She always loved seeing the frosting of my cakes. But now I won´t be able to bake it for her."

"She´ll understand."

"I know, it´s just that I wanted her to have a nice birthday. After all she´s been through, having to watch you in the Games and all. I owe her, anyway. I used to hide behind the counter so I could take a better look at you when she dragged you to the bakery."

Katniss shift in the couch and I know I just made her uncomfortable. I also know this conversation won´t get anywhere either, so I yawn.

"Thanks for taking care of me Katniss, I´ll be fine." I say, trying to find a more comfortable position in the couch. And her, being Katniss, of course knows I want her to leave.

"Let me take that off you." She aims at my prosthetic but I reach first.

"No. I can do it." She stares at me and although her expression tells me she wants to help, she lets me be. Which suits me just fine, it´s good enough I had to be taken care of by all three of the Everdeen household. You´d think I´d be a little more able to fend for myself. Once I take off the prosthetic, I dump it on the floor and struggle myself into a lying position on the couch, again, I don´t let Katniss help.

"Do you want me to help you up your room?" She asks.

"No, I´m fine. Thanks. If I feel like it, I´ll get there myself later."

She studies me with a weird expression. Some mix of sadness and anger. It hurts me to see her like that, then again, part of me hurts as well knowing she´ll never love me the way I love her.

"Do you want a blanket?" I drape over my legs the couch shawl before she gets the opportunity to reach to my linen closet.

"No, thanks."

"Don´t be like this, Peeta." She says.

"I´m just trying to make it easier on you. You don´t have to take care of me Katniss, you don´t have to pretend to care about me either." I say sleepily.

"You´re not being fair."

"It´s okay, Katniss. I can fend." I yawn.

"Peeta!" I pretend to fall asleep.

"You´re being so ridiculous!" Is the last thing I hear her shout at me, but being ridiculous is the only way I can think of to hurt less when I remember she doesn´t really love me.

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><p><strong>an: Keep tuned for more Caught on Fire! :) Review, please! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alrighty, this is the third installment in Peeta's story, Caught on Fire. I sorta didn't like how this one turned out. Pretty loosely written if you asked me, I had a lot of fun with certain things but meh... I'm not really sure. Also a huge thanks to Howlynn, on whose review I based off a little for this chapter (: Thanks so much for the feedback you guys! :D Let me know how you liked this chapter, please.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. **

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

My eyes have been meaning to open up for a while now. I can see through my eyelids that the bright morning sun is already filtering through my curtains. But I´m so comfortable here in my bed, so very warm and cozy that I don´t want to wake up just yet.

"Peeta…" I hear a sleepy yet melodic voice that can only belong to one person. "Peeta," she calls me again. I still don´t open my eyes and I´m tempted to shush her so we can both go back to sleep. I ignore her sweet calling but I start feeling her lips on mine, and after a while not only on my lips, but my eyes, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, my neck. It´s like she´s trying to bury me in kisses. I smile, still my eyes not open.

"Katniss…" I mutter.

"Wake up, Peeta," she says again, kissing my lips. This time I grab her by the neck and pull her closer to me. Katniss eagerly kisses me back, but after a while she pulls away needing air. "Open your eyes…" She beckons. But I consider it twice, what if it´s just a dream? What if—She´s kissing me again and this time I can´t suppress my wide smile or the happy swelling in my chest. I decide it´s safe. That one way or the other Katniss came to her senses and realized how lonely I felt so she came here in the night, helped me up the bed and we both fell asleep in each other´s arms. I slowly open up my eyes, testing the reliability of reality, and sure enough, there´s her. The most beautiful girl in all of Panem lying lazily by my side, her hair made into a bird´s nest, but looking so very exquisite wearing that warm smile that welcomes me into another day.

"Hey," she says softly, planting a sweet kiss on my lips. "Good morning, Sunshine."

I laugh. There´s no way this could be a dream. She was there when Rye called me that.

"Good morning," I say, still a bit disoriented. "How did you sleep?"

"Better, now that I´m here with you."

I feel my heart do that uncomfortable thing again, that unprecedented acceleration that one day will be the death of me. "I´m glad to hear that," I say and allow myself to kiss her. I hear her giggling. It sets me off. Something´s not right. This isn´t like Katniss. This isn´t Katniss. She never giggles, she´d never call me Sunshine, and there´s no way on earth she´d wake up by my side in the morning. But I don´t tell her that because she´s sitting on the edge of the bed with her back turned to me, fixing something on the floor. Maybe her boot, maybe she´s going hunting.

"What made you change your mind, Katniss?" She doesn´t answer. "Katniss?"

I sit up and lean over to see what´s got her so busy down there, but all of a sudden, she gets on top of me and pins me to the bed with a strength unnatural for a girl. I struggle against her grip, but when I get a glimpse of her face it´s not Katniss anymore, it´s Cato. And he looks at me with that vicious stare, he´s ready to maim me again. I start screaming just when I see his hand pulling up a knife above my head. I try to get loose for the love of my life. I finally get it because for some reason, I still have my pair of legs safe and sound. I manage to throw him off and notice his knife is lying next to me. Before he even notices I grab the knife and pin him down, and before I even stop to consider it twice, I stick the knife in his chest once, twice, thrice. I hear him begging me to stop, I hear him crying like he cried before the wolf-mutts killed him. Next thing I know, I am the mutt. I am the wolf. And I didn´t kill Cato, I killed my brother, Rye. All of a sudden, I´m not a mutt anymore, but I´m covered in blood. It only takes a second for me to realize I just murdered all twenty four tributes of Panem. Somehow, my brother is District 12´s tribute, not me. And that´s when I spot her. Her long braid spread on the floor. Her lifeless body dumped at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Her beautiful grey eyes, open in death, staring at the nothingness forever. I run to her desperately and clutch her body tightly against me. I eagerly cover myself in her blood hoping whatever killed her kills me too. I cry desolately shouting her name, pleading her to come back, promising I will wake up when she tells me to. But that´s when the screens appear floating atop the arena. And that´s when I see the monster who killed her. That creature with eyes so blue yet so disoriented by blood-lust, with hair yellow yet tinted brown with dry blood. That wild, crazy mutt who looks just like me. I scream and cry bitterly. I don´t notice when the corpses stand up, but next thing I know, I´m being chased by them, all twenty four of them, and now they´ve got me cornered against the river that leads up to my cave and Katniss´. I have nowhere to go. They keep advancing and I fall to the ground. They overwhelm me, they´re everywhere. They all want to kill me to avenge their death. I scream as loud and long as I can. That´s when I feel the punch in my face. I wake up and see I´m still in my living room, I´m still on the couch and it´s still night. But I´m still expecting them to come for me. It felt so real I´m not yet prepared to trust my senses. However, the pain on my jaw is still present. It pounds against my skin. And that´s when I notice I´m not alone. I scream and charge against him.

"Will you settle down!" He screams. It´s not the voice but the horrible alcohol fumes that brings me back down. "You stupid kid, what are you trying to do? Overdose yourself to death?"

I still don´t get it. I don´t know what or how to feel. I´m not even sure I´m awake. I don´t contain myself from crying in front of Haymitch because he´s so drunk he won´t even remember this.

"It was horrible Haymitch!" I sob. "I killed her! I killed her! I´m sorry! I´m so sorry!"

Haymitch looks a bit baffled and doesn´t know how to process what he´s seeing, that gives me free pass to let it all out to him.

"It´s horrible! I killed Katniss!"

"You didn´t kill her. You were having a nightmare."

"How do you know? It felt so real. How do you know you´re not dreaming? What if you´re still trapped in the Games, unconscious, and all of this is just a dream?"

He stops to consider this but then grunts. "I´d need to have a lame subconscious to come up with _you_. It´ll teach you a lesson. Next time you decide to drug yourself, do it in front of someone who can actually help." He throws the empty orange tube to my lap. I pick it up gingerly and that´s when it all settles in. After Katniss left, I fell asleep. She left my medication on the side table and I felt so much pain I thought it would be okay to take a bit more of my pills, but then I started having this horrible nightmares and I couldn´t sleep because my leg hurt so much. Slowly but surely the memory blossoms in my mind again. I remember the thrashing, the fretting, the cold-sweating, me screaming, and then, driven by pain I remember me opening the small tube and swallowing all of its contents. Haymitch´s right. I just had an overdose of whatever the stuff my pills are. I let my mouth hang open as the situation dawns. I´m not turning into drunken Haymitch. I´m turning into something worse.

"I´m sorry," I say lamely but Haymitch moves his head from side to side in disapproval.

"Don´t. Just consider yourself lucky that you didn´t die." He looks annoyed. "After all you went through back there, and you´re just… whatever." He walks to the front door.

"Where are you going?" I demand, feeling unreasonably panicked.

"To get more booze, this won´t do for the night." I see the bottle he carries on one hand, half empty. "I´ll be right back. Don´t do anything stupid."

I fumble with my hands and breathe rapidly, noticing how I´m unable to control the pace of my heart. It´s a horrible feeling. I´m anxious and I´m tempted to follow Haymitch or go and wake up Katniss. Surely if she sees me in this state she´ll know what a mistake she´s doing and how much I really need her. Yes, of course. That will convince her. I´m muttering to myself while I fumble with the prosthetic, anxious to be done with the wretched thing because I want to be to Katniss´ house as quickly as possible. But the tremor in my hands is so uncontrollable that I can´t tie it around. I curse loudly and begin to whether my options. Maybe I can limp my way to her house. I´m trying to stand up when Haymitch is back.

"What are you…? I told you not to do anything stupid."

"I was just trying to stretch a bit…" I mumble.

"Yeah right, lay down again." He says and pushes me with little grace back to the couch, then he collapses onto a rocking chair that allows him to have me within eye range no matter what. "Go back to sleep."

"No!" I beg. "No… I can´t. It´s the nightmares."

Haymitch curls his mouth into a dark smirk and says, "Well, then it´s going to be a long night."

"Give me some of your liquor," I plead but he chuckles.

"Not gonna happen. That will definitely send you straight to the tomb."

Right now, the tomb doesn´t seem such a bad idea.

"Drink this." He hands me a glass and I chug the liquid, eagerly waiting the burning feeling of white liquor. It´s not a burning feeling, but a bitter taste that invades my mouth. I spit it out immediately and cough.

"What is that garbage?" I growl.

"Water. You need to get the drugs out of your system." He stands up, fills another glass and hands it to me but I don´t take it. I only fulminate the drunk in front of me with all the will of my eyes. "Now don´t look at me like that. Take it or I´ll force it down your throat."

I wait a little more to see just how far Haymitch can go, but in the end I resolve to take it because the bitterness has been replaced by an uncomfortable sensation of having my tongue transformed into some kind of dull paper.

Turns out Haymitch was right. It was a long night. A night full of trips to the bathroom to vomit the stuff that makes me see things even when I´m not asleep. A night in which I´m so out of it, I yell all the horrible things I thought when Katniss told me that she was pretending to love me to an imaginary version to her. A night in which my deepest buried demons come out to haunt me. But glass after glass and trip after trip, my body slowly comes back to its senses and my mind clears out. By the time dawn breaks, I´m positively exhausted.

Haymitch is snoring, body smeared onto the rocking chair with one hand holding his bottle and the other holding a knife. I´m staring at the ceiling, feeling dizzy and empty-stomached. It´s been so long since I didn´t feel this sick. Since… I hear someone knock the door. Haymitch scrambles to his feet, cornering some invisible enemy with his knife.

"It´s just the door. Would you mind getting that? I´m feeling a little—

But he doesn´t even let me finish. He collapses back onto the chair, resuming his snoring. I hear the knock again. I sigh, quite irritated, wondering who could it be at this time in the morning. And exactly, just as I´m doing that, I remember there´s only a handful of people who could be knocking on my door this early. I scramble to my feet too, resembling Haymitch´s clumsiness but I forget I don´t have the luxury of scrambling to my feet anymore, so I fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Coming!" I shout. I reach for the prosthetic and put it on hastily, get up as fast as I can and open the door. I´m about to tell Katniss what´s the urge, why on earth is she knocking so loudly, but I don´t find Katniss.

"Prim!" I´m taken aback by her early visit. She stares at me with what can only be shock.

"Peeta," she says. "What happened to you?"

I look apologetically at the girl and shrug. "I didn´t sleep very well, Prim. That´s all."

She nods. "My mom sent you some hot chocolate. Katniss says you like it very much." I see the mug between her baby blue mittens. She hands it over to me and I thank her.

"Well," she sounds a bit concerned. "Have a nice day, Peeta."

I nod and follow the little girl with my stare up to the gate of Victor´s Village, then I get back in the house because although I stopped feeling my leg at some point during the night, I don´t want all that progress thrown away by a bit of cold. The mug is hot and burns my freshly wounded hands, so I deposit it by the side table to drink it when it´s cooler.

I go back to my couch resolving to spend the day merging with my surroundings; pretending I´m yet another object decorating the house, but the hole in my stomach is impossible to ignore. I grab the remains of a loaf of vanilla bread I made the other day and go back to eat it with the chocolate. The bread´s a little stale, but who cares. Like I haven´t eaten that before. The hot chocolate though, comforts me in an intoxicating way. It´s warm and creamy, and Katniss´ mom has added marshmallows in it. It´s delicious. Before I even finish my stale bread, I´m craving another mug of it.

The days passes by and Haymitch is still asleep, while I´m still hungry. But I don´t feel like cooking, moving, or living for that matter, today. Must be the drugs side-effects. At some point in noon, I hear the door knocking again. This time I don´t ask who is it, because I´m pretty sure who I will encounter. It´s easily the end of the school day already, so I know I´ll be seeing… "Rye?" I ask, puzzled. He looks at me with the same expression Katniss´ sister did in the morning. Seriously, do I look that bad?

"What the heck happened to you?" He says. No hello, no how´ve you been. It´s what the heck happened to me. I shrug and let him come in while I go back to my nest in the couch. Rye takes in the surroundings. Amazing how a pair of Victors can destroy such a clean place within hours.

"What…Peeta, seriously."

I don´t say anything, I just doodle on the couch´s shawl with my finger.

"Don´t ignore me!" I look up to my brother. "What´s happened to you?" Rye demands. "And why does it smell so horrible in here?"

I nod at Haymitch with my head. He won´t mind me using him as an excuse. Even if he did, he´d need to be sober to prove any point at all.

"What´s with the bandages?"

"I fell yesterday after you left and landed over broken plates. Don´t worry, Mrs. Everdeen took care of that."

"Well, I´m glad. Because you wouldn´t have." He speaks with accusation in his voice, demanding to know more. I scoot my feet away so he can sit. "I knew you were lying. What´s going on?"

"Nothing, Rye."

"Nothing? You look worse than Haymitch!"

I look down to my knees and sigh.

"What is it? Did you have a fight with Katniss?"

When I hear this, it rubs me the wrong way. "What makes you think that?" I snap, but Rye just gives me a glare. I look at him, considering whether I should pull him into this whole mess. He doesn't have to know –no one has to know- about how things are really with Katniss and me.

"Can you keep a secret?" I ask my brother without looking at him.

"Of course."

"No. I mean like, no one can know Rye," I say, dead serious and repeat it to emphasize, "No one. If someone finds out… I don't know what could happen. No one in the whole of Panem can know. Okay? The consequences could be—

Rye grows tired and rolls his eyes at me. "I won't tell anyone, Peeta!" He interrupts me, rather impatiently. "Really, you'd think you've been pulled out of one of those stupid Capitol shows."

I see where he's going, but I'm tempted to tell him that after the Games, technically I have.

"So are you going to tell me what's got you looking like a mad man or what?"

I sigh, resigning to the fact my brother is as stubborn as me sometimes. I look at him warningly one last time and begin.

"It´s a ruse," I whisper.

"What?"

"It's a lie."

"What? I don't understand, what's a lie, what are you talking about?"

"Everything, Rye! Everything's a lie!" I exclaim, but suck in a breath when Haymitch shifts in his sleep. I turn to face my brother's troubled expression. "All. Katniss, me, the star-crossed lovers thing. Everything is a lie."

It takes a moment for Rye to assimilate the information I just fed him. It gives me plenty of time to see a whole selection of emotions parade across my brother's face until he finally adds two plus two. "So…the… your… you guys aren't… in love?"

"It's not that simple. I am. She's not. She thought I was pretending so she made this unspoken agreement with Haymitch during the Games to follow through. That way we both would get sponsors and we would be able to come back. She was wrong, though. I never pretended."

An uncomfortable silence sets in. The kind of silence when you can tell the other person is trying to find some comforting words for you but the situation is so unfixable, silence is the best they can do.

"She hasn't spoken to me for days. Actually I hadn't even seen her since the day we arrived until yesterday."

"What brought her here?"

A smile draws on my face, remembering the turn of events of last night. "A snake." At the sight of my brother's alarmed expression I say, "Relax, it's not true. I mean, Prim invented it so that Katniss would come to check on me." Wow, yesterday I thought it was a great idea, coming from Prim and all. But now that I speak it out loud it sounds a whole lot more pathetic.

"Did you guys fix things?"

Such an innocent question makes me chuckle but at the same time brings out a frown from my brother. "It's more complicated than that. But no, we didn't. Or at least I didn't. She tried to talk me into taking care of my hands and the leg," I point to both injured parts.

"But I thought you wanted to be with her," Rye interrupts.

"Yes, Rye. That's what _I _want. But can't you see? I don't want her to suffer more than she already has to. We're having the Victory Tour in a couple more weeks, and then the Games again. The Capitol will be dying to see us, no doubt. Don't you see where all of this is going?" My voice becomes alarmed as I, myself begin to realize exactly where all this play-pretend is going to end. But Rye has beaten me to it.

"You guys are in for a long ride. Once Victors you have to become—

"Mentors."

Rye nods, "This is a mess. Unless someone else from District 12 wins, you're going to be sharing the spotlight for all your lives."

My stomach sinks at the realization. I won't be able to live with myself if I bend to this pretense, like the Capitol expects me to. I love Katniss but I don't want to force her to spend her life with me. I don't want to be some kind of jailer, I don't want her to hate me like my mother hates my dad because she doesn't have any other option than to live with him. I get a mental glimpse of my future. A horrible future in which Katniss and I will have to marry, have kids, and then, most certainly having them shipped to the Games; because, wouldn't that make for good television? I cover my face and sigh hopelessly. What a doomed life lies ahead of us.

"So what are you going to do?" Rye asks after a long time of keeping quiet.

"Isn't it obvious? Whatever Katniss needs."

Rye pulls in an exasperated breath, "What? You're telling me that even after knowing the girl doesn't want anything to do with you, you'll still stay by her side?"

"There's nothing else I'm willing to do. The only way I'll become a piece in the Games is being part of hers. Not anyone else's."

Rye looks incredulously at me, "You really do love her, right?"

I nod, determined.

"I have to admit at first I thought it was just your strategy to survive. After all, I had always known you were able to be very touchy-feely when you wanted to, but I never knew you were this serious."

"Well, I'm dead serious, Rye. Have no doubt. Even if she doesn't want me around."

Rye looks at me with a smile, then shakes his head and ruffles my hair. "What ever happened to my little brother, huh? The one who drew pictures on the sidewalk and cried when mom wouldn't allow him to feed the Seam kids?"

I smile. That's the Peeta I wanted to safeguard during the Games, that same child. "I've seen him painting."

Rye smiles and hugs me, "I really admire you, you know. Katniss too… she," his voice breaks a bit. "She had the courage to do what I should have done for you."

"Don't say that."

"During the Games, whenever I saw you, when Cato maimed you and everything, I couldn't help but wish it was me instead of you. Somehow, it was my fault that…"

"Rye," I look at him serenely. "Listen closely, it's okay. It wasn't your fault that I was reaped and no one blames you for anything. Not my parents, not me. Especially not me. Volunteers are a rare thing, they hardly ever spring up. And honestly, if I had such a young sibling like Katniss has, I would have done the same thing. But not with me, don't think you should have volunteered for me. Besides, who knows what could've have happened if you had volunteered. If you mull over it a bit, in some ways, having Katniss and me compete together in the Games was an arranged fate."

Through the window I see the blur of a girl with braided dark hair rushing by to her house with a bag slung across her back. My eyes deviate, following her path until she closes the door. A tiny smirk blooms in my face and I don't suppress it.

"Why her, though? I've always wondered," Rye asks me, noticing the way I stared at Katniss. "You could've had any other merchant or Seam girl you wanted, you being a merchant and all."

Without taking my eyes from the door, hoping she comes out again, I answer, "It's just that… well she's… she's perfect," I hear my brother grunt and only then I turn to him. "It's hard to explain, Rye. Sometimes even I wonder that. Why, out of all the girls it had to be her. Why couldn't I just get over her and move on. But over time I learned just to accept the fact that I'll never be able to get over her. I'll never stop wanting to be with her. Frankly, I've lost interest in understanding why I love her and focused more on actually loving her, trying her to notice me. "

"I thought she liked you before, you know because of the bread thing. I thought that was why she always came to see the cakes."

"No, it was because of her sister. She loved seeing them. When I noticed that the prettier the cakes, the more she and Prim would come, I started trying to make them as pretty as I could."

"Ugh, would you listen to yourself?" Rye says, laughing at my lovesickness. "Can't you help the sensitive soul thing?"

I laugh too, "It's one of my best treats, for Capitol people, anyway."

After a small silence Rye stands up, "I have to go now, but promise me you won't follow his example," he nods at Haymitch.

"I'll try not to," I say with a small smile and stand up, to walk him to the door. "And Rye," he stops right on the porch. "I don't mind if you visit more often."

"'Course you don't. I'll be checking on you, Sunshine. Or if you want a bit more of company you could stop by the wrestling practices sometime, coach Hacklebuck has been asking about you."

I nod. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea, in fact it sounds great. Seeing people I thought I'd never see again; my friends, my coach, maybe that's what I need to get myself out of this gloom hole. I have been so busy the last months making Katniss the center of my life that I almost forgot that before her, I used to have a life of my own. I used to long for her, but it wasn't something that I couldn't overcome with the right company. Maybe I can't fix the fact that Katniss doesn't want to see me anymore, but for how long? Maybe all she needs it's time to sort her feelings out, and perhaps that's also what I need, time to clear the fog that the Games left in my head. I thank Rye for his visit and tell him I'll stop by the wrestling practice sometime in the week.

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><p><strong>an: Thank you for reading! And keep tuned for more :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Whew, took me long enough to write this one, right? Well, anyway, I just want to thank everyone out there for their very appreciated support and all of their lovely reviews. You guys make this much more fun! ^^ About this chapter: well, it's just sort of there. But even if it looks like I'm just aimlessly playing with the plot, trust me, I am not! :D It's all a very well calculated plan... mwahaha. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you think! Also, happy new year and may the odds be ever in your favor this 2012! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or anything related to it.**

**A QUICK ANNOUNCEMENT: You guys! A friend of mine and me are doing this RP project and we are looking for someone who might want to collaborate writing GALE HAWTHORNE. So I guess you could say this is kind of an audition, yes? If you like RPing and would like to be in this project, be sure to either PM me or write so in a review and I'll contact you back (: Anons won't be taken into account since they're... well, anons. I can't track you unless you give me a mean to do so. Anyway, hope someone out there is interested! On to the story now...**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

_SMACK!_ I wince at the impact of human body against the wrestling carpet.

"COME ON MELLARK, MY GRANDMOTHER WOULD BE MORE OF A COMPETITION TO BRADLEY, AND SHE'S DEAD!"

I'm leaning against the gym's door and I'm so glad I'm not the Mellark coach Hacklebuck is yelling at. He hasn't noticed me yet, so I get one of those moments. Those rare circumstances in which you're allowed to see the picture of something you helped create. Something you saw as a mere seed now plays before your eyes as a full grown, walking creation. That's sort of what happened with the District 12 High School wrestling team. When I left there were only five members to the team, but now there are enough kids to hold some decent interschool tournament. I notice they have got new carpets; one of the perks that comes with being a Victor. The winning District gets a budget for all the mending they need in places like schools or Justice Buildings.

"Hey, it's Peeta!" Oliver Torrent, one of my school friends, waves at me from inside the gym. He gets distracted enough time for his opponent to lock him against the floor. Coach Hacklebuck blows his whistle and says, "Water break, everyone!"

"Mellark, I was wondering when I'd see your face again around here," He grunts but I smile kindly at him. I like coach Hacklebuck. He's some mix between a sober Haymitch and a cranky old man. Though he's already in his fifties he is at least a foot taller than me. To some he looks scary, but I know that deep down he's a sentimental guy.

"I like what you've done to the place, coach. All those new carpets."

"Courtesy of the Capitol itself," He says blatantly, though I sense a slight disdain. I'm guessing that, like everyone in Twelve, he rather have nothing to do with the Capitol. "Care for a tour?"

I know this place like the back of my hand. Like Katniss is to the woods, I am to this gym. Still, I let the coach guide me through the motions. "What did you do to get all these kids to sign up, coach?" I say as we walk along the gym.

"Hmm," he grunts. "Wouldn't you know."

I actually don't, but I just look quizzically at him.

"It was all that publicity," he says. "When the special on you aired during the Games, you know. They came down here and interviewed the team. By the next morning your teammates and I had this unbelievable line of kids wanting to join."

I widen my eyes. "Really? Wow, and you'd think Twelve was above the influence of the whole thing."

"Well most of 'em are merchants, you know. Seam kids wouldn't stand a chance."

Like heck they wouldn't. I only need my memory of Katniss scraping by on the bakery's trash, thin as a twig, to know Seam kids wouldn't not only not stand a chance, it would be downright humiliating for them to be forced to compete against merchants. Kind of rings a bell, if you ask me.

"But you can't really blame them. It's been long since this dirt District has seen a celebrity close enough to be at arm length."

Ugh, I wish the coach wouldn't think like that. It's like Rye thinking me winning the Games is some sort of trophy to brag about with girls. Being a victor is nothing to be proud of, but of course I can't say that.

"Fame is paid at an expensive cost, coach," I say charmingly, like I'm answering one of Caesar Flickerman's tricky questions.

"So you're not too spoiled for a wrestling match yet, Mellark?"

I smile but then I remember the leg. "Maybe I am, coach." I lift the bottom of my pants and let the metallic leg show. Coach Hacklebuck frowns and nods.

"You played well, son. How's that healing up for ya?"

"It's good, actually. I get the casual setback here and there, but nothing major. I hope I get wrestle again sometime, though," I say. But my conscience screams "YOU LIAR!"

"Well, you're welcome anytime."

"I have to admit coach, the yelling of profanities is something I've been missing," I smile but the coach grunts unhappily.

"Don't abuse your fancy leg, Mellark. I'll get you for it as soon as you get rid of that limp."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, coach."

I think I see the slightest trace of a chuckle on coach Hucklebuck's face so I only move my head from side to side, stiffing a laugh myself. He blows the whistle and calls the training session back in. This is what I mean about him having a soft spot for me. Like Rye, he always made me pay for not being "tough" enough. Got me the worst opponents, the hardest to beat so he could have an excuse to yell at me. But I managed to get on his good side, eventually he started yelling at me out of mere mockery and not just to bother me.

I wait by the benches for the session to be over. I can see the disappointment in some of the kids' faces when they realize I'm not joining the session. Coach Hacklebuck's right, they think of me as a celebrity, then. The feeling is gruesome, though. I don't want to be a celebrity for having competed in those Games. No one should ever be glad or thankful for having participated in them, not even if it meant Katniss noticing me. We still lost something; innocence, dignity, I'm still having a hard time placing a word on what exactly did we lose. But something is certain, we're not the same kids that left District 12.

I allow myself to walk around the gym to get a better glimpse of each of the fights. I notice a bit amused that most of the guys I used to hang out at school with have joined the wrestling team. It's funny watching them learn the basics, given they're softer kind of merchant; sons of the candle maker, the shoe mender, the seamstress, kids whose trade is a bit gentler on the trader. Not like me or Brenn Bradley, son of the butcher, who have to work themselves to the bone to actually get bread to the table—no pun intended in my case, of course. We're used to physical hardship but they're not, so it's really hard for them not to bawl when they get their butts kicked time and again. And it's even harder for me to remain with my expression clean of all emotion.

After two hours of perpetual torture and a taste of coach Hacklebuck's rich foul vocabulary, the training session ends. The kids rush to the showers and in a moment, I'm joined by my old school friends.

"Peeta!" Oliver greets me with a friendly pat on the back.

"Hey, man! So glad to see you!" Solomon, another of my friends joins. Eventually, the whole wrestling team catches up, people who I've never even seen come and greet me. I can't help feel a little shy around all of them. Certainly, I used to be "popular", if you will. But the Games have taken away from me all desire to stand on the spotlight. I´ve been standing there enough for a lifetime. All of them ask me questions, compliment me on how well I did on the Games, congratulate me on having Katniss as a girlfriend –because yes, I was speaking the truth when I said that a lot of boys like her. It's a jumble of words and greetings. I'm trying to correspond each and every one, leave no hand unshaken, no acknowledgement unrequited. But it's hard to keep up, harder than answering all those reporters at once with a charming smile and no hint of annoyance. It's different. These people I do know. It's a bit more intimidating.

"Enough you guys! Let the man breathe!" Oliver says.

_Thanks Oliver_, I think though I only laugh shaking it off. "That's okay, Oliver," I say. "How have you guys been, anyway? I thought I'd never see you again!" Apparently the light way I manage my unexpected survival makes them feel uncomfortable. My guess is, they also thought they'd never see me again either. So much for my ability to handle crowds. . . "Who'd knew, right?" I add, because if I'm forced to stand another second of uncomfortable silence I'll go nuts.

"Yeah. . . " Oliver says, a bit unsure. "But just so you know, we all rooted for you."

"Thanks guys."

"Hey , you want to go and check out my house?" I ask, because there's nothing else I can think of to show my gratitude. They all answer enthusiastically but they decline my invitation, mainly because they must return directly home to help their families around. I tell them that it's okay and that they can come by anytime they want.

"You want me to walk you home?" I ask Rye.

"That's okay, Sunshine. I have to stop by the Cartwrights first."

"Oh, okay," I say and don't wait until conversation rots. "Well. . . then I'll see you around."

"But if you don't mind freezing yourself to death, you can come by."

I turn around and smile. "I'm a victor, remember? Impossible is nothing."

Rye laughs at me, both because how dauntless I make it sound and because we have this inside joke with sayings from before the Dark Days. We think it's hilarious the lengths people would go to make publicity.

"So, what do you think about the newbies?"

I shrug. "A bit green, if you ask me. What bothers me though is that they signed up just because I used to be part of the team."

Rye eyes me with strangeness and says, "That's what coach Hacklebuck told you?"

"Yes. . ." I hesitate. "Why? Is there anything else I should know?"

Rye smiles to himself and shakes his head from side to side. "Can you keep a secret?" He asks me with a mischievous smile.

"Where did you bury the body?"

"The guys and I charged the new kids."

"You what?" I exclaim outraged.

"They all wanted to join, but we told them if they wanted to get on the team they had to pay an entrance fee to sponsor you. I thought maybe coach Hacklebuck would tell you himself, but judging by what you know, I think he intended for it to go unsaid. After all, it's kind of a crime to charge for educational services."

"Kind of?" I ask chuckling. "It _is_ a crime. I'll have to think of a way to thank you guys."

"But you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

I feel a chilly current of air biting the little skin my clothes show which makes me regret I ever wanted to walk Rye home. By the time I get to my own house it´ll be so cold it will be a miracle if I limp my way there.

"Changed your mind there?" he asks.

"No," I grunt. "It's just a little cold." But just then, another wind blows and I'm definitely praying my leg won't resent the harsh weather. "On the other hand, I think my leg might resent it a bit."

"That's okay, bro. Go home," he says and I nod at him with gratitude. He waves me goodbye and I get going. By the time I arrive to Victor's Village it's already dark, the only house glowing with life is Katniss'. Through a window I see her and Prim reading a book. Prim makes a comment and Katniss laughs and I can't help smiling. She looks happy, calm.

I keep staring until she looks outside and catches me in a glimpse. Our eyes meet if only for a fraction of a second but I quickly flit mine away. Just like I used to do in school, like I do now, and probably like I will do for as long as I live. She doesn't look away and I'm forced to retreat to my house. Luckily, the icy air of September is quite the incentive. I don't have any more painkillers, so if I get another setback from my leg it's going to be pretty much reduced to me and my ability to handle pain –which for the record could do better.

I get to my house and it's too cold for my taste. I get a fire going and go to the kitchen, I feel like having some hot chocolate. I'm pulling out a casserole large enough when I catch sight of a calendar sitting atop the kitchen island. Tomorrow is Friday 6th. Prim's birthday. I immediately forget about the hot chocolate and let mayhem break loose in my kitchen. I open pantries and drawers and cupboards, and take this pot, pull out that spoon. I'm about to begin preparing the dough and the sight of an empty flour bag crashes my sudden will to bake. I hate it when this type of thing happens. You're feeling in the mood to be productive after a large period of procrastination or sloth but then something gets in your way. I sigh, the unpleasant sensation of crankiness seeps through my chest. I feel laziness weighting my productive resolution down.

_Aw, come on Peeta. It's for Prim!_ I think. _Yeah, but I have down to the square to get more flour. It's a long trip… You're so useless. It's _Prim_ we're talking about. She's probably the only one on your side in the Katniss matter, plus she's always loved your work so much… Katniss doesn't even want me to give Prim a present… Well, that's even better. If you impress Prim, Katniss ought to notice you. She might even thank you… I'm not baking Katniss' little sister a cake so that Katniss thanks me. That's hypocrite!... You know you'd love that, don't deny it… Okay, but still. If I give her a birthday present is because I genuinely want to, not to impress Katniss… Suit yourself, but if you ask me, you might even get a kiss… Now THAT'S hypocrite… Are you going to bake Prim's cake or not?... Yeah… Well, get your butt down to the square because it's getting late, you hypocrite thing. _

I look at the clock, it marks eight with twenty five minutes. I get up from my couch, if I want to catch the bakery open I have to hurry up. I run my way down to the square more than walk it. It's freezing and I don't want my leg to bother me, so I might as well and try to get warm. When I reach the bakery I see the shop is already closed.

"Dang," I mutter. I go around the block to get in through the back door. On my way there, I pass by the big apple tree and the old pig pen. It hasn't changed one bit. I still can see eleven-year-old Katniss and me, meeting for the first time. I remember that time I was so scared and nervous. I had never seen someone starving so badly and all I thought about that time was "Please don't die. Not here." I was also expecting to at least introduce myself. As everyone in Panem knows, I've been in love with her for a long time, and as years passed by I formed this fantasy in my head where I would one day gather the courage to go up and talk to Katniss. She and I would get along and we'd become friends and then I'd ask her to be my girlfriend. It was all too sickeningly perfect. I feel embarrassed of myself every time I remember this daydream of mine, mainly because the place, time, and circumstance in which we met could not have been more opposite from what I pictured in my head.

The sweet smell of freshly baked bread invites me to come closer to the house, just like it happened to Katniss years ago. This is when I notice how hungry I am, haven't been paying much attention to my eating habits lately. I knock on the door and I hear my father say, "Come on in, Gale."

What in the freaking world? Gale? The sound of his name makes my stomach churn. Why of all people should my father be expecting Gale? Why not me? I mean, you'd think blood bonds last longer. "What did you bring me today?"

"Actually, I'm short on squirrels today," I say nonchalantly but try to keep my good mood.

"Peeta!" My dad sounds surprised. "Come on in."

"Expecting someone?"

"No, just… I assumed it was Gale. He usually comes at night to trade." I nod, keeping my face unimpressed. "What brings you here?"

"I come to trade," I say pulling out a handful of gold coins. "I ran out of flour."

"You're baking again?" My dad sounds pleased and I nod. "Well grab a bag from there in the corner. They're there, next to the spices."

I grab one of the heavy flour bags and sling it on my back.

"Thanks, dad. How much is it going to be?"

My dad looks at me reproachfully and moves his head from side to side. "Peeta, please. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not, dad. I want to pay you. Come on, fair is fair." I say and place the coins on the kneading table. He's about to protest, but I continue on, "You need it more than I do, please."

He seems to finally accept the money and asks. "What are you baking?"

"A cake," I say, proud of myself.

"For Katniss?"

"No, it's actually for Prim. It's her birthday tomorrow."

"Oh," my dad exclaims. "Well, wish her my best… Actually, you know what," he says starting to move some boxes around, the kind that are decorated, ready to be delivered. "Give her these, from me."

I open up the box and find it full with cookies sparkled with multicolor chips. It's one of the most basic pastries, one of the first I learned to bake but also one of the prettiest.

"She'll really like them," I say. "I'll give them to her. Thanks, dad. So, uh… I better get going."

"Oh, yes. You need any help with that? I can call one of your brothers."

"That's okay. It's not that heavy."

He nods and I grab the flour bag and the little box. "Good night, dad."

"Good night, Peeta. Be careful with that leg." I smile and wave him goodbye.

I pass by the trail all miners use to go back to their house. Their shift has ended, but frankly I have more interest in the box of cookies my dad gave me than watching them. I'm inspecting it, studying the fancy pattern that swirls around the corners because I think it might make for good decoration in Prim's cake. I run into someone and I trip, dropping both the bag and the box. In the dark of night I can barely see who was it, but he has enough consideration to help me pick up my things. He picks up the box and hands it to me but when I see the shadow bending over to get the flour bag I say, "That's okay, I got it. It's way too heavy."

"Mellark?" I hear a familiar voice hissing my name. Ugh… why of all people him?

"Evening, Gale," I say, trying not to sound too disgusted.

"What are you doing here?" He demands.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Limping?" He says arrogantly. Gosh, how I wish I could punch this guy in the face. Breathe, Peeta. Don't get down to his level.

"How nice," I say and pick up the flour bag. "Have a good night, Gale," I tell him, though the way words come out it sounds more like "go to hell."

"You too," Gale spits. "Greet your girlfriend for me, will you?"

Ugh! That's it. "What?" I snap.

"What you heard." He retreats, but I could swear I heard him muttering under his breath something about so much for being hunting partners for five years. I have to look back a couple of times to check if I heard right, or to see if he disappeared in the midst of darkness, because it's downright impossible to hear his steps. It makes me feel like he's hunting me or something. I try to tie the loose end of this new strand of information and I come down to one hopeful conclusion. Katniss hasn't been seeing Gale.

You'd think this made me rest at least a bit more sure about the silent treatment Katniss has given me lately, but it didn't. Instead it popped more questions in my head. The haunting, answerless kind. As I prepare the dough and all of the other ingredients I will need the interrogative keeps running around my head freely. Why hasn't she seen him? Does that mean she doesn't love him? Does that mean that after all they are really hunting partners and just that? But more importantly, if she doesn't love Gale, then… does that mean she loves me? The possibility of an affirmative answer to that one last question makes my stomach flip and fall into a bottomless abyss both in excitement and terror, because there's always the chance she doesn't love either of us.

I finish kneading the dough and let it rest before I start baking, but a wait that's usually gone in an eye blink today extends itself as if to torture me so. I get myself to more tasks concerning the cake and decide what kind of filling the cake will have. I think long and hard and this effectively occupies my mind because no idea I come up with seems good enough.

"But what am I supposed to do if I don't know her favorite flavor?" I ask to no one in particular, and though I'm tempted to go and ask Mrs. Everdeen, my guess is the question will be more insulting than complimenting. In the past they got by with whatever Katniss could bring to the table, they didn't get the luxury to decide what food they liked best. "Well then, maybe something that reflects her…" I look outside the window, as I often do when I'm trying to find inspiration, into the darkness of District 12, with the blue moonlight as the only guidance for one that walks outside at this time of the night. I think of Prim and how different she is from night. Bright, warm, sweet and innocent and lovable, I don't blame Katniss for wanting to protect her so bad. I mean, even my _mother_ has a soft spot for Prim and that's saying something. I think of how kind she is with everyone at school and how wise she is for her age. I close my eyes and start thinking in colors, just like I do it to describe Katniss. When I think of Katniss in colors, the first one to fill my mind is green. A sea of green that smells of pine needles and wet earth. Then a glowing red that becomes an intense orange, then softens into warm yellow, like coal that burns and becomes fire. But Prim is very different from Katniss. She is like the flower, primrose. The colors come in soft shades, first yellows and whites, then pale pinks and baby blues. Blue, soft like the sky and the color of her eyes. I open my eyes and know how Prim's birthday cake will exactly look like.

It's like three in the morning and my hands are a bit burnt because the stitches have made them a bit clumsy, but I'm satisfied with my work. I'm not one to brag, but this is about the best cake I've ever done. The base of the frosting is white, which let me decorate it like a canvas. Around it I drew the swirly patterns I liked so much from the cookie box but I shaped them into being the stem of thirteen blooming primroses at the top of the cake. I put all the kinds of primrose I know and they don't look half bad. I almost slapped myself when I ruined the first layer of icing and smudged the paint, but repeating the process was worth it. I think Prim will be very pleased with it. It's like the cake is a little version of what her garden would look like if they planted only these flowers. I chose the bread flavor from a very old recipe that has been in my family for generations, I don´t even know what the name means, it´s in an ancient language, but it´s called Tres Leches cake. It consists of three layers of vanilla bread separated by a caramel coating, each bathed in a concoction of evaporated milk, sugar and vanilla syrup. It´s one of my favorite kinds of cake because it keeps the consistency of bread yet when you bite it your mouth is filled with this creamy, sweet liquid. I hope Prim likes it.

There were leftovers of the stuff so as I wrap my present in a neat white box I feed myself with cake. Too bad I didn't bake one for myself, it´s good. It´d taste even better with some hot chocolate.

I go into my studio and pull out a blue ribbon that came with Portia's present and wrap it around Prim's box, then with very neat calligraphy, I write her a little note wishing her a happy birthday and place it on top of the box. By the time I'm done with my whole ritual, dawn's already breaking.

I want to deliver Prim's presents before she goes to school, and before Katniss is awake mainly to avoid confrontation, but I see her rushing past my house just as I get my apron off and reach for my coat. Great. Confrontation with Katniss it will be, then. I button my coat, put a scarf around my neck and go deliver my present. Mrs. Everdeen is the one who opens the door.

"Peeta," she sounds surprised. She's still in her night robe. "Katniss is not awake yet."

"I'm not looking for her," I say. "I'm sorry I came here so early, misers. But I have something for Prim."

Mrs. Everdeen looks at the couple of boxes but doesn't ask me what is inside them.

"I made her a birthday cake." I hand her the larger box with great care. "Careful," I warn her. She nods. "These are cookies for her as well… my dad sent them."

Mrs. Everdeen gives me a tiny smile and asks me if I want to go in.

"That's fine, I have to go back to my house, I left the oven turned on," I lie.

"Thank you, Peeta. It's very kind of you. How are your hands?"

"Better, thanks." A chilly morning wind blows through me and I shrug. "I should really get going," I say with a smile and Mrs. Everdeen nods. "Wish Prim a happy birthday from me."

Even as I enter my porch I still can see Mrs. Everdeen's eyes trained on me, surely staring at me curiously.

The house is a mess but I'm too tired to care. I consult the clock and it marks five twenty, perfect time for going to bed, I think. I climb up the stairs and the only energy left in my body I use it to program my alarm clock to wake me up at 2 p.m. Then, I collapse on my soft bed, knocked right out. I'm so tired I don't even dream.

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><p><strong>an: That is all for this chapter. Thank you for reading and remember to stay tuned for an update! Reviews appreciated C: Have a nice day. **


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